Life is Good
by jadefirefly3D
Summary: Stan's got too much going on, like the fact the Portal actually works, to fuss over the cut on his hand. Except now it's infected. But that's no longer important when he hears a pained scream from upstairs. As Stan helps treat a slightly injured Mabel, and she in turn returns the favour, Stan reflects on his past, present and future. Double dose of hurt/comfort Stan/Mabel bonding


A/N Hey everyone, thanks for clicking on my story! For those of you who care, "Just So You Know" is will be done soon (I hope), I've almost got the last chapter completed. Health problems, real life and writer's block has made it very slow going but I'm hoping to get the last chapter as soon as possible. Meanwhile this story is somewhat of an exercise in getting over writer's block, inspired by something mentioned in passing in "Just So You Know" and a line (two separate lines actually) in "Weirdmageddon 3" that took on a life of it's own. (And just so you know...er no pun intended, you don't have to read "Just So You Know" for this to make sense)

It's kind of a stream of consciousness, part coherent plot, part incoherent introspective, and part double dose of hurt/comfort family fluff Stan/Mabel bonding.

For those of you not scared off by now, enjoy!

* * *

 **Life is Good**

It had been a long, but profitable day. As Stan flips the sign on the door to the Gift Shop from 'Open' to 'Closed' he heaves a deep and weary sigh, wanting nothing more than to sit back and relax and catch up on some quality television. There is a deep ache that seeps into his bones and he shuffles tiredly through the 'Employee's Only' door, pinching at the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the pounding headache that's been plaguing him all day.

He feels like crap, there's no denying it, but it's more than they typical aches and pains that come with the old age that's been creeping up on him, making him wonder where the time has gone. He winces as he flexes his hand, pulling at the cut he received a few nights ago, reopening it and sending a troublesome shooting pain through his nerves that runs up and down his arm.

 _Better tend to that,_ he thinks, not daring to take off the dirty bandage just yet. He looks at it though and his lips curl into a grin. As much as it hurts like hell, it reminds him of how close he is. The portal works, and right now that's all that really matters. Soon it will be charged up and ready to open, it will find the right coordinates and then it will be time. In a few weeks at most, everything he's worked for will finally pay off, and thirty years worth of guilt, pain and loneliness will melt away and he will be whole again.

He'll finally have his brother back. He will finally be himself again.

The Shack is quiet except for the faint sound of 80's pop music coming from the attic where Mabel's been working on a new art project while Dipper went off somewhere with Wendy and her friends. The kid will probably be out for a few hours and apparently Mabel's 'in the zone' as she puts it, which means that she's not going anywhere until her project is finished or she falls asleep from exhaustion, whichever comes first. Basically that means he pretty much has the place to himself for a while.

 _Good, I can watch TV without any interruptions tonight,_ he thinks with a weary smirk. He's happy to have the kids staying with him for the summer, in fact for the first time in as long as he can remember, his house actually feels like a _home_ with them around. But he's so accustomed to being on his own he still enjoys the times when he can be alone and won't have to answer to anyone or pretend to be someone he's not.

When his nephew called back in May pitching the idea of Dipper and Mabel staying with him all summer, Stan wasn't too thrilled with the idea. He hadn't seen them since they were babies, and really didn't know what to expect. Stepping into the role of Stanford Pines was easy when it was just the people of Gravity Falls he had to convince, but it's different with family.

Shermy would've seen right through him if he were still alive, and while his nephew didn't know either of his uncles well enough to tell, it didn't seem right to Stan, to con his own family into thinking he was someone else. It didn't matter that his old man disowned him, it still tugged away at his conscience and left him in a Catch-22. The truth would've broken their hearts, but maintaining the lie all these years to his family broke _his_ heart. They had believed him, the family screw up to be dead all these years while their precious favourite was alive and well. Every time he spoke to his old man on the phone, when Filbrick dredged up the past and spoke how Stanley's 'death' was his own doing, and how _proud_ he was of him, thinking he was speaking to Stanford, Stan's heart ached and all he could do was say in his best Stanford voice, "Can't talk Dad, have a lot of work to do."

The only solution he could see was to avoid them altogether. He missed his father's funeral, and his mother's a few years later, and he never got to say good-bye to Shermy. While it was a joy to visit his nephew twelve years ago to meet the kids for the first time, Stan always felt it was a mistake. It only perpetuated the lie.

But despite that, he was glad he finally agreed to take the kids for the summer. Having Dipper and Mabel around was the best thing to happen to him in a long time. But it will only make it that much more difficult when the truth all comes out.

 _How am I going to explain this to Dipper and Mabel when the time comes?_ Stan wonders, knowing that once the truth comes out, that it will change everything. Would they be angry? Disappointed? Would they understand and forgive him?

He thought about telling them straight up. Holding a family meeting and explaining everything. But he had become so used to living the lie he didn't know where he could possibly _begin_ when it came to telling the truth. Besides for now, the lie was protecting them. The Portal was dangerous. Yeah it worked, but there was still so much that could go wrong. The best way to keep them safe and ensure that they stayed as far away from that thing as possible, was if they didn't know about it. And if those FBI guys ever came back, they less they or Soos or anyone he cared about knew about it, about _him_ , the better.

Besides there was always that possibility he didn't want to think about, but nagged at him every night in the back of his mind ever since Dipper showed him the third journal, _It might not even work…I might never get him back. What would the point be, to come clean now and maybe hurt the people I care about and maybe drive them away if I never get him back?_

But he was tired, so, so tired of living a lie.

Stan sighs heavily, leaning against the doorframe to the bathroom a little too heavily as weakness flows through his senses. He flexes his hand, wincing deeply at the sharp ache that has him hissing with pain, _Should've properly dealt with this days ago,_ he scolds himself, _looks like I'm paying for it now._

He doesn't know why he ignored it like he did, even when the wound started to throb painfully in the way only an infection can. Maybe it was because he had a lot on his mind, not just the anticipation for the day when the Portal will open, but there was that Woodstick festival and it was the busiest time of the summer for tourists. Besides, it had been just a cut, no big deal. But now, even without looking at it he knows it's starting to turn into something else. Maybe if he took care of it when he should have, the damn thing would've started to heal on its own by now.

Grabbing the first aid kit he closes the toilet lid and sits down, blinking heavily as exhaustion settles deep into his bones.

 _It's kinda early but maybe I'll skip watching TV tonight and just hit the hay,_ he thinks, _too many sleepless nights working on that Portal are taking a toll on me and I'm pretty sure Tiger Fist is a repeat anyway…_

He gingerly unwraps the dirty bandage and winces at the sight. The whole top of his hand is red and swollen, the cut is seeping with blood and infection. It looks nasty and painful and Stan mentally berates himself for not taking care of himself a little better. Taking care of himself had never been the biggest priority, but what good would he be to the kids, or his business or his brother if he let himself get sick over a stupid little scratch?

He tosses the old bandage and closes his eyes with a sigh, lacking the energy to continue. _Come on Stan, sooner you get this over with the sooner you can go to bed..._ he tells himself, but his body doesn't respond to that logic and he's not even aware of dozing off.

Suddenly he hears a scream from upstairs that startles him awake. For a moment he's surprised to see he's still in the bathroom, but the cry of pain throws him back into reality and he jumps to his feet, darting out of the bathroom to investigate. "Mabel!" he calls out just in time to see her running down the stairs, one hand reaching out blindly, the other covering her eyes. She miscalculates how many stairs there are and forgets the last step and stumbles forward with a startled shriek, crashing clumsily to the floor.

Forgetting all about his exhaustion and the throbbing pain in his hand he rushes to Mabel's aid as she continues to cry with one hand covering her eyes as she pushes herself up, "Mabel sweetie…" he starts to help her up, wondering what on earth can be wrong but as soon as he sees her face, catching the sight of glittery paint on her nose and eyes he knows what happened. "Come on," he soothes, guiding her trembling form to the bathroom.

"Grunkle Stan!" she sobs, "I c-can't see and it h-hurts!"

"It's OK sweetie, you're OK," he tells her, turning on the tap to the bathroom sink. He starts to guide her head under the spray of the water, but there's not enough room, "stay here and don't rub your eyes, you'll only make it worse. Hold on, I'll be right back."

Mabel just cries incoherently in response but nods.

He rushes to the kitchen and grabs a large glass from the cupboard and quickly returns to his niece, filling the glass with water, "OK, lean back kiddo," he says guiding her to lean her head back over the sink, "open your eyes."

"I c-can't," she sobs, "It hurts t-too much!"

"Yes you can, you need to sweetie, I have to wash the paint from your eyes," he tells her, and he can tell the kid is trying, but her eyes remain stubbornly squeezed shut and she keeps reaching for her eyes but stops herself before she can rub them and make it worse. With his thumb and index finger on his uninjured hand, he gently forces one of her eyes open and she places her hand on his, trying to help even as her eyes keep trying to stay closed. He gently pours the water into her eyes and she blinks rapidly as he does so. She whimpers while he refills the glass.

"You're doing good pumpkin," he soothes her, pouring more water into her eyes and repeating the process as Mabel's cries fade into distressed hiccups as she helps Stan by pulling at the lids of her stubborn eyes to hold them open as best as she can, resisting the urge to rub them, "You're handling this like a champ," Stan comments as he refills the glass, impressed that while she's still in distress and her eyes keep involuntarily fluttering closed whenever he tries to wash away the silver glittery paint from her eyes, she's impressively calm and patient, being as helpful and cooperative as she can given her painful circumstances.

He remembers once having to wash Ford's eyes when they were roughly Mabel and Dipper's age, after one of his science experiments went awry and he got some weird substance in his eyes. For all his bravado and genius when it came to science and studying all that's weird, Ford could sometimes be kind of a baby. Despite knowing how important it was to flush out the foreign goop that got in his eyes, he fought Stan the whole time, wiggling away and rubbing at his eyes until Stan had no choice but to physically hold him down.

"Stop fighting me Ford!" Stan had hissed, grabbing his twin brother's hand and pulling it away from his face, "You're going to make it worse!"

"I know, I know!" Ford whined in response, "But dag nab it, it hurts!" He wiggled out of Stan's grip, inadvertently socking him in the jaw.

"Ow!" Stan snapped, grabbing him again and tackling him to the ground as he sprayed the water from the garden hose into his eyes. When the ordeal was over their tiny back yard was a mess, Ford was wet and muddy and Stan wasn't much better off but soon Ford felt better and thanked him profusely for his help.

"Any time," Stan grinned, rubbing at his sore face, "but easy on the fisticuffs next time, OK? For a wimpy science nerd, you sure do pack a punch!"

"Learned that from you, dummy!" Ford retorted and the two of them surveyed the mess and both laughed until their father's strict voice broke the mood.

Stan could remember the beating he took for that incident; he couldn't sit down properly for three days while Ford got nothing more than a stern talking to for making a mess—one of the perks of being the family favourite. But at the time, Stan didn't mind. Ford had enough to deal with considering his extra fingers, and Stan was always happy to stick up for his brother and take the fall when they got in trouble for their shenanigans. That is, until the day it really mattered and he got kicked out on the curb, discarded and disowned. It still hurt, after all these years that Ford never spoke up for him that day. Sure, Ford had been rightfully angry with him for ruining his project and chances for getting into his top choice of college, but Stan still couldn't understand how he could've been so furious that even he wouldn't say anything. Not even good-bye.

"Grunkle Stan? Is something wrong?" Mabel asks, snapping him out of his thoughts and he notices that he's overfilled the glass, his weariness and nostalgia pulling him away from the here and now. "I didn't blind myself permanently did I? Is the glitter not washing out?" she gasps in panic a for a second.

"No, it's washing out just fine," he soothes, flushing more of the paint from her eyes, "sorry…got a little…distracted."

Stan regretted the bad blood that formed between him and his brother, and recognised the part he had to play in it. He had hoped that they would've fixed their relationship that fateful day, but soon, soon he'd have his brother back and none of that will matter anymore. Once he's back they'll put their stubborn differences aside and fix things and go back to being brothers again. He won't accept any other outcome, even though deep down he knows that he's naïve to think it will be that simple.

"I think I almost got it all," Stan tells Mabel gently, pouring more water into her eyes which are now red and swollen, but from what he can see are now free of glitter paint. He just needs to make sure so he repeats the process one more time. "There," he declares, helping her stand up straight as she blinks tentatively and turns around to look in the mirror.

Stan grabs a clean towel and hands it to her and she dabs the water from around her eyes and face and then grins gratefully at her Grunkle, giving him a hug, "Thanks."

"No problem sweetie," he hugs her back, "so how the heck did you manage to get _glitter_ in your eyes?"

"Oh you know, I was in the zone my painting was looking fabulous and I was so excited and I totally wasn't paying attention when I went to spray some finishing touches and didn't realize the nozzle was facing me instead of the canvas," she shrugs, and then chuckles, "you'd think I'd have learned my lesson by now."

"You mean it's happened before?"

"A couple oft times," she replies, "but this time was definitely the worst. Ugh my eyes are so itchy now," she gently rubs at the corner of her eyes but then shakes her head and pulls her hands away. "They hurt too…"

"I can imagine," Stan tells her, "but are you OK now?"

"Everything's really blurry but I think so," she nods, wincing as she takes a step and quickly realizes that it's not just her eyes that hurt, "Ow."

"Looks like you scraped your knee pretty good when you fell," Stan muses, guiding her to sit on the closed toilet lid, "let me take care of that for ya."

She nods blindly, keeping her irritated eyes closed as he treats the scrape on her knee. Stan meanwhile grimaces when he sees the sorry state of his hand. It had a chance to dry and every minute movement pulls painfully at the cut and he fumbles a bit when he realizes how painful it is to move his fingers which are also a little swollen. _Worth it,_ he decides, despite how worrisome the state of his hand is becoming. The way he chooses to look at it is that it's nothing more than a sign that the Portal is functional, and if that's the trade off to getting Ford back, then so be it.

It will probably scar, but of all the scars he's accumulated over the years, once the damn thing heals, it will be the one he'll wear with pride. He's no genius like his brother, and Ford's instructions were basically gibberish that took years to decipher but getting it to work at long last is his greatest achievement which will be made greater once he's reunited with his brother.

"Ow, ow, ow," Mabel hisses, clutching at Stan's shoulder when he sprays her knee with antiseptic spray to clean the scrape.

"Shhh," he soothes gently, "it should only sting for a few seconds…" he adds, lightly blowing on her minor injury. Her grip on his shoulder loosens and she relaxes when the pain subsides and he grins, "There," he exclaims as he covers her scraped knee with a bandage and kisses the wound, "all better."

"Thanks Grunkle Stan," Mabel breathes tiredly, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face into his shoulder. When her cheek touches the skin on his neck she stiffens and pulls back.

"Something wrong?"

"Are you feeling OK?" she asks, blinking her swollen eyes up at him with concern. The trauma to her eyes are taking a toll and she clearly can't see well yet but there something adorable the way she's trying to get a good look at him while practically blind.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he chuckles in denial, "what do you say you take a break from your art project and keep me company while I make a cold compress for your eyes, help get the swelling down."

"Sounds good," she agrees, but the concern doesn't leave her face, "are you sure you're OK?" she reaches for his face to check and he backs away a step, but he's too slow, "You feel kinda warm..."

"Don't worry about me pumpkin, I'm fine. It's just kinda uh, warm in here," he insists, guiding her into the living room and having her lie down on his chair.

He promptly returns with a cool cloth that she places on her eyes as he pulls her onto his lap and together they watch a rerun of Tiger Fist, or at least try to. With her eyes covered and her eyesight temporarily compromised Mabel can't really watch anything so she just listens, and Stan's a little too distracted to pay attention. He combs his fingers through Mabel's hair, a small smile on his face as she snuggles into him and he can tell by her breathing that she's dozed off, exhausted from all the excitement and trauma to her eyes.

Ever since his father kicked him out, but especially since he lost Ford to the Portal, Stan's life had been rather empty. His only purpose was to fix his mistake and get his brother back, but aside from that and proving to his father that he's not completely worthless, his life had been void of meaning. But he doesn't feel like that right now. Now when he feels so needed and appreciated and most of all loved. He's not sure he's worthy of such love at it's most pure, but Stan's not going to argue. Between Mabel and Dipper and even Soos, who for some reason has always looked up to him, Stan's got it pretty good right now.

 _Once the truth comes out, will that change? Will they hate me for lying to them all this time?_ Stan wonders, glancing down at Mabel. _Will they feel betrayed?_ He shoves that fear aside, _That's a problem for Future Stan to worry about. You got it good, so enjoy it, dummy._

He smiles with contentment and closes his eyes as the TV drones on. His hand, still untreated, hurts like hell and he knows he really should take care of it now like he originally intended to, but he's too comfortable and doesn't want to disturb Mabel. He can deal with it later.

After a while Mabel stirs, pulling him from his light slumber and she groans, tentatively removing the cloth from her eyes, blinking heavily to allow her eyes to adjust.

"How are you feeling, sweetie?" Stan asks, a little hoarse. He clears his throat, noting with relief that while her eyes are still red, the swelling around her eyes is mostly gone.

"Still sore and itchy but all in all, much better," she declares with a toothy grin, but now that she can see again she looks at him with a little scrutiny and her smile quickly fades, "Grunkle Stan, are _you_ OK?"

"Fine," he replies, flinching when she feels his forehead.

"You're warm," Mabel frowns.

"That's because I have a little munchkin sitting on my lap," he scoffs with a smile.

"No, you were warm before," Mabel shakes her head, "are you sure you're feeling OK?"

Feeling a little uncomfortable under her concerned gaze he shrugs, "I don't know, maybe I'm coming down with something, but it's nothing."

She seems to accept his answer as she climbs off his lap but then her eyes rest on his hand, "Oh my gosh, Grunkle Stan!" he voice is rich with concern and mild accusation as she grabs his wrist and pulls his arm towards her to get a closer look. He only somewhat resists, "That looks infected!"

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal…"

"Not a big deal?" she hisses, "It looks bad! Why didn't you take care of it?"

He shrugs, "It's just a scratch. Don't worry pumpkin, it's fine."

"No wonder you feel warm… Stay here and I'll be right back," she has a very slight limp as she leaves the living room for a few moments and returns with a cloth dripping with hot water and presses it to his hand. "Don't worry Grunkle Stan, I'm going to take care of this for you. Just leave it to Mabel and you'll be feeling better in no time! Just hold that there and I'll be right back!"

He grimaces when she returns with the antiseptic spray, antibiotic ointment and some bandages, "Mabel you really don't have to…"

"Nonsense," she scoffs, taking his hand and gently pressing the hot cloth to the wound to draw out the infection, "You took good care of me, now it's my turn."

"But…" Stan squirms, and he realizes how silly he's being, especially when his eyes rest on the spray and he knows how much it will sting. He won't admit it, but Ford isn't the only baby in the family when it comes to minor injuries, which if he thought about it is ironic, since he's dealt with much worse in his lifetime without batting an eye.

She glances at the spray and chuckles, "It's only going to sting for a few seconds."

"I know but…jeez it's just a cut, kid. I'll take care of it! I've got this!"

"Um obviously not," she rolls her eyes, "because if you did it wouldn't be infected like this, would it?"

"That spray is expensive! I don't want to waste it on a stupid little cut!"

He expects Mabel to reply with a joke, teasing him about the fact he's scared of a little medicinal spray just because it will sting, but to his surprise Mabel's face grows unsettlingly serious. "Back at home I have a friend who's dad accidentally cut himself while clipping his toenails and he too thought it was not a big deal, just some silly little cut. Well that 'stupid cut' made him sick, like _really_ sick. First his foot got all swollen, and then eventually his whole leg and he was in the hospital for weeks with a crazy high fever."

"It's not that bad…" Stan scoffs, but even he can see that it has the potential to get that bad. He really does feel like crap and Mabel's right about him being a little feverish and his hand is awfully red, and hot, and swollen. If he lets it fester much longer, it could indeed get that bad.

"If you think this stingy stuff is expensive, how much do you think a hospital stay would cost? My friend's dad almost lost his leg! Do you want to lose your hand?"

"OK, OK, you made your point."

Her grim expression immediately shifts into a bright smile, "Great! Because Doctor Mabel is in the house and she's gonna fix you up good as new!"

"I really appreciate it sweetie, but it's OK, don't you worry about it, I'll take care of this myself," Stan insists.

"You obviously didn't before," Mabel frowns, "don't you trust me?"

"Sure I do, kid but…" he hesitates.

"But what?"

Stan tries to come up with an answer, opening his mouth to reply but coming up with nothing. It's not something he can properly articulate, but while he can't put his finger on it, he knows that it's something that goes much deeper than simply being afraid of the sting that comes with the medicinal spray. The thought makes him squeamish, but he knows he can handle it.

"Come on, you took care of me, let me take care of you," Mabel insists with a smile, "My turn, remember?"

Stan flinches ever so slightly. _There it is_ , he thinks. For most of his life Stan had been on his own with no one to look out for him but himself. He can't remember the last time someone took care of _him_. Not since he was a teenager when Stan broke his leg so bad he spent weeks at the hospital in traction. Ford looked after him then, visiting him every day, providing him with comics and skin magazines to help him pass the time while their parents only stopped by a few times, only showing up to express their disappointment. Then there was Carla, who would be there to provide him with wild and amazing nights whenever he got lonely, but that didn't count because as it turned out, while he had been planning to marry that girl, she had only been using him.

For most of his life, Stan looked out for himself because no one else would. Someone else taking care of him? That had become a foreign concept to him a long time ago. An empty dream that he has no idea how to deal with. It kind of scares him, if he's to be completely honest with himself.

Mabel's sore and red eyes meet his with a pure sweetness and sincerity and Stan tenses a moment before releasing a shaky breath, "OK," he nods reluctantly, holding out his hand so she can access it better, "have at it."

Mabel grins and peels off the cloth, wincing with sympathy at the sight of it. The heat managed to draw out some of the pus that had been gathering under the cut and Mabel gently gets to work cleaning out the cut with surprising ease for a twelve-year-old kid.

"You're good at this," Stan comments.

"Thanks," she beams brightly, pressing the cloth to it once more, "between me and Dipper, we've both gotten our fair share of scrapes and stuff, and with mom and dad working all the time…well, we sometimes had to take care of things like this on our own."

Stan nods, not sure of what to say about that.

She laughs, "And then since we got _here_ , well, every day has been an adventure so I got even _more_ practice." Her laugh turns into a frown and she lowers her sore eyes to glance away at the floor.

"Sweetie, what's wrong?" Stan asks, taken aback by her sudden switch in mood.

"Nothing," she sighs, "I was just thinking about…that stupid puppet show I put on for some silly reason. _That_ sure turned out to be a disaster!" She chuckles awkwardly, deflecting her brief moment of melancholy with the shake of her head and a crooked grin.

Stan returns the grin, having a good idea where her thoughts were taking her. He doesn't know the whole story, but he knows Mabel felt guilty for Dipper getting hurt. Even though it was just a few cuts and bruises and a sprained wrist, she hovered over him until he felt better. And considering how nurturing she has been whenever Dipper came back all scratched up and sore after completing the tasks Stan assigned him to show some tough love, maybe it shouldn't be so surprising that Mabel would have developed a few first aid skills.

"Well, anyway," she shrugs it off and asks, "you never said what you did."

"Huh?

"To your hand," she clarifies, taking the cloth off the wound again to get a good look. "You've had this for a few days now, but when I asked you before you never said. So what did you do to yourself?"

"Aw it was nothing," he replies, not knowing how to answer that. How could he? He couldn't say it was because a portal in the basement opened and he got struck with some debris that was flying around, and he's too tired and off his game to come up with a good excuse.

She flashes him a skeptical glare through her red and sore eyes and stubbornly waits for an answer. Finally, she shrugs, "Fine, if you don't tell me I'm going to assume it's something embarrassing."

"Yep, you got me!" Stan exclaims, grateful for the out she provided him, "Super embarrassing!"

Mabel giggles, "OK then, in that case, I don't think I _want_ to know."

She reaches for the antiseptic spray and holds it towards his hand, "I think I drained and cleaned out as much of the infection as I can for now. This will sting, but only for a second." Stan braces himself and Mabel is about to spray but then double checks to make sure the nozzle isn't facing her and twists the bottle around to aim for the cut on Stan's hand, "Phew, that was close! You'd think I learned by now!" she chuckles spraying the cut as Stan hisses through his teeth at the sting, trying not to flinch.

She holds him by the wrist firmly and gently blows on the wound, soothing the sting. She smirks at him, "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"You're right, I don't know what I was so afraid of."

Mabel giggles and puts some of the antibiotic ointment on the wound and wraps his hand with a bandage. When she's finished she kisses the bandage on his hand and declares, "There, all better."

"Thanks sweetie," Stan says, feeling a strange emotion flow through him bringing with it an unexpected gathering of moisture at his eyes.

"I'll be right back," she says, gathering up her supplies and rushing off to the bathroom.

He watches her go and wipes away the tears from his eyes, grinning happily. It's been so long, so, so long since someone took care of him that he had forgotten what it feels like. It feels…nice. Overwhelming somehow.

 _Maybe it's the fever getting me all…teary-eyed and soft…_

Moments later Mabel returns with a glass of water and a pill, "Here you go Grunkle Stan!" she says, handing him the pill.

"What is it?"

"Tylenol silly!" she exclaims, "You're still warm and it will help you feel better! Take it!"

Stan can see the logo etched into the white tablet and rolls his eyes, _Of course, obviously!_ "Thanks kiddo."

He takes the medicine and then she taps him on the nose, "Boop! Now get some rest Grunkle Stan and tomorrow I'll have a look at your hand and see how you're feeling and if it's getting better."

"Sounds good."

"Doc Mabel's orders," she insists.

"Yep!"

"And for goodness sake, next time don't let a cut like that fester! OK?"

"You're the boss," he smirks.

"Good," she gives a firm nod.

Before she can say anything else the door opens and Dipper walks in, looking like he's on cloud nine. "Hey bro-bro, how was your evening?"

"Awesome," he replies, "Wendy is awesome. And now that he's dating Tambry, Robbie's been actually kinda not a jerk, so that was a bonus!"

"You're welcome for that!" Mabel exclaims, blowing a raspberry.

"I really feel like one of the gang now and…Mabel have you been crying? What's wrong?" Dipper asks, noticing her red and still slightly swollen eyes. Immediately he's in concerned brother mode, rushing over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, "What happened? Are you OK?"

Mabel pulls away with a snicker, "I'm fine, just got a little carried away with my art project and got some glitter spray paint in my eyes."

"Again? Mabel, what did I tell you about using spray paints when you're in the zone?"

"I know, I know," she huffs, "but I wasn't thinking. I'm OK now though, Grunkle Stan helped and took good care of me, they're just a little sore and itchy now, but I can see fine and I should be good tomorrow as usual."

"You sure?"

"Yes I'm sure you dork," she giggles affectionately.

Stan laughs, "OK kids, now, now. It's getting late, I think it's time you kids hit the hay."

"OK Grunkle Stan," Mabel nods, giving him a big hug, "I hope you're feeling better tomorrow."

"What's wrong? Feeling sick?" Dipper asks Stan.

"That cut on his hand is infected," Mabel explains before Stan can answer.

"Ouch," Dipper hisses in sympathy, "what did you do to it anyway?"

"I don't think you want to know broseph, apparently it's something embarrassing," Mabel says.

"Oh? _Oh._ Well uh, feel better Grunkle Stan, goodnight!" Dipper waves as he and Mabel head upstairs for their room. On the way Dipper tries to get a better look at Mabel's eyes as she petulantly tries to bat him away telling him to stop fussing and Stan can't help but chuckle fondly, marvelling at how close they are, not just siblings, but best friends and longing for the days when he was their age and he and Ford were just as inseparable.

 _They don't know how good they have it,_ he thinks, hoping that with them history won't repeat itself. There was a time when Stan thought his bond with Ford was unbreakable, but time and circumstance had other ideas. _I just hope I'm not too late to make things right. That Portal better work, it_ has _to._ He looks at his bandaged hand with hope and resolve. _It will. I know it will._

He slowly achingly pushes himself to his feet, listening to the kids upstairs move about, Dipper telling Mabel all about his evening with Wendy and her friends, Mabel talking about her art project. Stan smiles, _Nah, they won't end up like Ford and me. Anyone or anything tries to get between them and break that bond they share, they'll have to answer to me._

Truth is, he'd die for those kids if he has to.

Stan sighs as his thoughts drift back to Ford, as they have almost every night for the last thirty years. He's so close now, so close he can feel it. It thrills and terrifies him at the same time and the anticipation is almost too much to bear.

 _Soon. Soon the time will come and if all goes well I'll have my brother back and the truth will come out and everyone will know I've lied to them all this time. I want Ford back, but it's going to change_ everything. _For better or worse, I don't know. But right now, I've got it pretty good._

Moments of pure joy and happiness have been rare in Stan's lifetime, and as Stan looks at his injured hand, bandaged and treated with such love and care, he smiles. _I don't deserve this,_ he thinks, _I'm such a screw-up, and yet… Who'd have thought a failure of a man like me could have people in his life who genuinely cared about him?_

His breath hitches and he wipes a tear in his eye. If anyone catches him crying he'll blame it on the fever making him soft, but for the first time in a long, long time Stan realizes he's happy. He's truly happy.

* * *

A/N So the story Mabel mentions about her friend's dad almost losing his leg to an infection is true, only it was my uncle a few years ago. He had been running a fever of 104F for about a month before he finally started to recover. It was scary, but he got better.

As for the inspiration for this story? Well, in my story JSYK, Mabel recalls helping Stan deal with the cut on his hand, and the gag line Mabel says to Bill after spraying paint into his eye, "I know that hurts, I've done it to myself many times!" But the biggest one was the line Stan says just before he's erased, "I guess I'm finally good for something after all" and that one got to me. It spoke so many volumes about his character that I wanted to do a little character study on Stan. Everyone on the show is so well rounded and real, but that line, his 'last words' if you will, gave Stan so much more depth to me than I gave him credit for. I know his introspection might not be very focused or coherent, but in my experience, introspection rarely is and that time between "Gideon Rises" and "Not What He Seems" must have been a crazy emotional roller coaster for him and I thought that could be a very confusing but interesting thing to explore.

Anyway, thanks for reading, please let me know what you think! Any feedback would be super appreciated and would feed the muse quite nicely! You guys are awesome and I would love to hear your thoughts!


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